Never leave you
by DeathMunchkin
Summary: Eight year old Dean comforts a sick Sammy. Queue lots of brotherly love. Might include some fluff. Sick/Sam Big-Brother/Dean. This it the fixed version (apparently the first one didn't have the right format, so I deleted it, fixed it and now here we are). Feel free to criticize my work, it helps me know what I need to work on.


It was already quite late at night. The motel room they were currently staying in had become dark after they had turned out the lights and only the dim slit of moonlight which managed to flow in from the gap between the curtains had remained. Everything else was cloaked with shadows. Dean rolled over in his bed, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position on the thin mattress. Turning onto his back he let out a frustrated sigh and stared up at the ceiling above his head. It's been a long time since he had this much trouble falling asleep. Maybe it was the cold of the night air which was stubbornly keeping him from the realm of dreams, or the soft sounds which could be heard every now and then. The low hum of the occasional car passing by, the cheerful chirping of crickets somewhere outside, even his own breathing. Theses were all noises which regularly sounded in the cold night.

Being unable to fall asleep Dean found his mind dwelling on all sorts of thoughts. What they did that day, what he had learned about guns and self defense. But every time his mind somehow found its way back to one specific topic. Monsters. Horrible creatures, some with fangs, some with claws, all of them with a hunger for human life. If only they knew. If only people understood how dangerous the dark really was. Not that he was afraid, not really. They were stronger than them, they could beat them all. And one day, one day he was going to rid the whole world of every evil thing out there.

A sudden shiver ran through him, the freezing night air cutting into him like knives. He tugged the covers closer to his chest in a minor attempt to savor his body warmth. He wondered what it would be like to stay in a proper home again. Would it be warmer? Would it be safer? He didn't know anymore. It had been so long since he had his own room, he could no longer remember what it was like to sleep in the same bed every night, to stay in the same place for months on end. That life seemed like it happened centuries ago. Like it was someone else who lived it.

His thoughts were cut short as another sound filled the space of the small room. This sound was different from the others. It wasn't like the noises from the cars outside or the creaking of the building as it settled. It was closer, more personal. The sound, which he had heard several times earlier that day, cut into Dean like a blade, leaving him feeling worried and, dare he say it, a bit scared. It wasn't the growls of a monster or the moans of a restless spirit. Those he could handle. Those he were familiar with, prepared for.

No, this was nothing like that. This was a cough, small and fragile, yet still clearly there. But more than that, it was his little brother.

Dean turned his head to look at Sammy, who lay tucked in tightly beneath the covers of the bed next to his. The kid was shivering fiercely despite the fact that he had a mountain of blankets piled on top of him. From the small amount of light coming in from between the curtains Dean could make out the sheen of sweat that lined his forehead. His hair looked damp and his fringe seemed to stick to his face.

Sammy was sick, their dad had explained that he probably had the flu. The last time they had checked he was sporting a fever of 102 degrees. Dean wasn't sure exactly how bad that was, but he didn't like the sound of it. He didn't want his brother to have a fever, or headaches or chest pains. He remembered asking if there was something, anything he could do to make him better. But their dad had said that the best that they could hope for right now was for Sam to sweat it out through the night. Dean could remember their dad mentioning something about visiting a free clinic in the morning. But the morning was still several hours away and the time spent waiting sure wasn't pleasant for the youngest Winchester.

Again Sam coughed and Dean's heart ached as his baby brother gave a quiet whimper. He knew that Sammy was probably hurting and the thought filled him with a nagging feeling of guilt. He wished he knew what to do. He felt like he was failing. Failing at being a big brother. Failing at doing the single most important task he had ever been given. Failing at watching out for Sammy. And it felt horrible.

Rolling onto his side he watched as the covers on Sammy's bed slightly rose and fell with each breath he took. Even though he was asleep he didn't look comfortable at all. His entire face was glowing from the heat of the fever and every time he coughed or moved he would look like it hurt.

"D'n" Sam slurred in his sleep, his voice sounding ragged from his damaged throat. Speaking sent him into another violent coughing fit which shook his entire frame. Taking this at the last straw, Dean quietly pulled the covers off of himself, flinching slightly as the freezing air crashed against him. Walking on his toes in order to make as little noise as possible he quickly made his way over to his brother's bed. Within seconds he crawled in under the covers, mindful not to disturb his brother too much. He was barely on the bed when he realized just how warm Sammy really was, the cold night air which bothered him earlier completely forgotten. He didn't mind the warmth. Because he was with him now. He was close to his baby brother again, and that's all that mattered.

"Hey, Sammy it's me. I'm here, okay. You're not alone." He said quietly, moving a bit closer to Sam. He carefully wrapped one arm around Sammy's shoulders and gently pulled his brother closer.

"It's okay Sammy. I'm here. Your big brother's here." He whispered soothingly into the kid's hair and gently kissed the top of his head. Sam instinctively reacted to his big brother's voice. Curling up against him he buried his face in Dean's nightshirt and laid his head against his chest, wrapping one of his arms tightly around his older brother. Dean could feel the heat of the fever radiating off of his brother's skin and through his shirt. He wondered if Sam's fever had increased, but there was no way for him to tell for sure.

"Dean." Sam spoke up again, this time with more clarity. Dean lifted his head to look at him, noticing that Sam must have stirred awake at some point. The kid sniffed loudly. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks, leaving streaks of coolness against his burning skin. He held onto Dean even tighter and buried his face even deeper in his brother's chest. His upper body shook with every sob he gave.

"Sammy? What's wrong?" Dean asked with concern, a new spark of worry going off in his mind. What if Sammy was getting worse? What if his condition got really, _really_ bad?The boy didn't answer immediately. Instead he just continued to cling to his older brother, holding on to him as if he was caught in a great storm and Dean was the only thing keeping him grounded. Dean had almost forgotten how clingy Sammy always became when he was sick.

"Don't go." The answer finally came after what felt like ages. Sam's voice was pleading, soft and broken, evident of how exhausted he felt. He practically begged his brother to stay with him, terrified of the idea of having to be alone again. He didn't want him to leave, didn't want Dean to let him go.

Dean felt a touch of sorrow settle in his heart. How could his baby brother _ever_ think that he would leave him. How could he think that he would walk away when he knew that he was hurting. Dean would never do that, he _couldn't_ do that. Sam is the most important thing in the world to him. There was no way, not now, not ever, that he would just walk away.

"I won't, I promise." Dean gently rubbed soothing circles on Sammy's back, smiling as he noticed him relax just a little under his touch. "I will never leave you Sammy."

Using his other hand he softly ran his fingers through Sam's curly brown locks. He could smell him as the two brothers cuddled closely together. It was soft and familiar and had something that was unique, something which only Sam smelled of. A smell which he knew would linger on his nightshirt for days to come, but that was okay. Because right now, all that mattered was that they were together. Sammy was safely held in his arms and if he could help it he would stay like this until he was better. Until the fever had passed and he was healthy again.

Slowly Sam's breaths evened out as he listened to the beating of his brother's heart. Though he drifted back to sleep he didn't release his hold on his brother, and neither did Dean as he eventually fell asleep as well.


End file.
